


feel you beside me

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blindness, Disability, F/M, Lack of Emotional Maturity, and the coming to terms with thereof, cough cough Varric cough, smut in chapter three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric struggles with a word, which is all well and good until Cassandra struggles with much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her heartbeat in his ear.

“Varric?”

“Mm?”

“I - I love you.”

Silence.

“Cassandra -”

“It is alright. I do not want a hollow reply.”

“It’s not -”

“Varric, it is _alright_. I know that love is not perfectly timed. When you are ready -”

His hand, warm over hers.

“You know I’m not just… hanging around, right? I’m here for the long haul.”

“I know, dear heart.”

“Good. I’m - I’m not _going_ anywhere, Cassandra. Just as long as you know that.”

Soft laughter.

“I do, Varric. I really do.”

*

It is almost a year before it comes up again - she has come to Kirkwall, on the eve of his inauguration, and he is blessed by her smile.

“I am so proud of you, dear heart.”

“For being duped into becoming Viscount?” he laughs, though they both know the jokes are long behind him.

“ _Varric_.”

“I know, I know. I still can’t believe you came. I thought you were still upset with me after Swords and Shields.”

She stiffens slightly. “Yes, well… this is more important. But do not think _that_ conversation has been put to bed.”

He laughs. “Fair enough. Glad you’re here, though. I need someone at my side tomorrow.”

“What about -”

“Hawke’s upset with me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she says I’m, ah… I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Why would she think that?” Cassandra’s voice is almost amused at the notion.

“Because I… haven’t… said… it,” he says finally.

“Said wha- oh.” She considers this for a moment, before smiling slightly. “Varric, do you remember how our relationship started?”

“Of course I do, you were terrified of asking me -”

“ _Before_ that, dear heart. When we were angry and loud.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, when I lied a lot and it all came out.”

“Exactly.” She cups his face, kissing his forehead. “You have not lied to me since, and I would take that honesty over three words every single time.”

He pulls her in closer. “Really? You’re seriously okay with this? I mean, it’s been nearly two years -”

She cuts him off with a gentle kiss, smiling against his lips. “Yes, dear heart,” she murmurs. “I am okay with this. Everything you have given me, everything you have shown me.... that is enough. If you are never ready to say it, I would be perfectly happy regardless.”

He stares up at her. “You amaze me,” he says, voice awed.

“I do try,” she replies, laughing. “I will talk to Hawke myself, and assure her that all is well.”

“You don't have to.”

“No, I do not. But I will. She should understand the truth.”

She does, of course, and Varric is proud to have his Seeker and his Champion at his side when the crown is placed on his head.

*

Time passes, Halamshiral weighs on them all, and Varric silently prays for peace.

It does not come.

*

A letter comes, bearing the seal of the Seeker Order, but the handwriting is unfamiliar.

Varric almost throws up.

“No. No, please, _no_.”

Bran raises an eyebrow. “Normally letters from the Seeker are a good thing.”

“This isn’t _her_ writing.”

“So?”

“So something’s… happened. Otherwise she’d be writing.” He takes a deep breath. “What if she’s gone? Bran, what if she’s -”

Bran cracks the seal, opening up the letter.

“Bran!”

“Better to know,” he says simply, scanning the writing. “She’s not dead.” And then: “Oh.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“She was attacked. She’s alive, but - the injuries are bad. She… cannot remain with the Order. They write to ask you if you will receive her here.”

“Yes. Maker, yes, of course.” Varric stares. “What… what kind of injuries?”

“She is… blind.”

*

Cassandra arrives within the week, the carriage pulling up to the Keep slowly. Varric lets out a long-held breath,

She is helped out of the carriage by her escort, and Varric swallows. Her face is mottled with red marks, scars that would pale in time, and her eyes are protected by a strip of fabric, hiding them from view. She seems otherwise unharmed, though he can already see how much quieter her presence is, how hesitant her footing is.

His hand closes around hers.

“Varric?”

“I'm here, sweetheart.”

“Are we - no, there is someone else here.”

“Yeah, the escort. Want them to leave?”

“Thank you for bringing me home, Satine.”

The woman smiles slightly, a soft touch to Cassandra's shoulder. “It was my honour, Lady Seeker. Should you need my assistance, the Countess knows where to find me.”

“Who's the Countess?” asks Varric. A soft caw from the luggage outside answers that question.

“Leliana insisted,” murmurs Cassandra. “She is a remarkably clever bird. I would like to sit, please.”

Varric leads her slowly up the step and through the doorway, guiding her through the halls to a waiting room. Bran had already seen fit to rearrange the furniture, mercifully - he confessed that his aunt had been blinded in an accident, and he was somewhat versed in the adjustment. Cassandra is less steady, feet awkwardly shuffling until she is led around the seats by the fireplace. There, her hands reach out, finding the arms of the chair and lowering herself into the seat with a soft sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

He sits next to her, fingers light on the back of her hand. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it yet, and that’s fine. But I’m… really, _really_ glad you’re not dead.”

She manages a thin smile, her hand curling around his. “The letter was frightening. I am sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“I wanted to write it, but… we tried, and it was quite the disaster.”

“I get it.”

“We are alone?”

“Yeah.”

She lets out a long, shaky breath, lips trembling. “Varric, I am - I am scared.”

“Hey, it’s - it’s going to get better. I can’t promise it’ll get easier right away, but I’m here, and I’ll do everything I can to help you, okay?”

“I do not wish to burden you -”

“You,” he says firmly, “will never be a burden. Not ever. Just take your time, tell me when things are wrong, and we can make this work.”

She shifts slightly. “You are sure?”

“Positive.” He reaches up, stroking her cheek softly. “It’ll be alright.”

She leans into the touch, managing a watery smile. “Thank you.”

He hesitates. “Cassandra, may I?”

She tilts her head slightly, and he brushes the edge of the blindfold.

“Oh,” she says softly. “No. Not yet, please. I am… I am not ready.”

“Okay. It's, uh, it's slipping. I'll look away whilst you readjust, okay?”

She smiles. “Thank you, Varric.”

His knuckles brush her cheek lightly before he shifts, turning away and taking a deep breath. Part of him wanted to see, wanted to know how bad the damage was, whether he could ever appreciate the colour of her eyes again, but he could not breach her trust. After a moment, she reaches to squeeze his shoulder awkwardly.

“I am done. Thank you.”

“You don't need to thank me, you know that, right?”

“I am afraid it will take more than that to break me of such a habit, dear heart.”

He holds her hand in his, kissing her knuckles. “Give me time.”

“That,” she says softly, “I have an abundance of.”


	2. Chapter 2

Idleness does not suit Cassandra, and Varric frets as she withdraws, quieter and quieter with each passing day. Her usual tasks are beyond her for now - she could scarcely stand without assistance, never mind swing a sword, and she would never read again, a thought that pains Varric intensely.

Still, she opposes his suggestion of a handmaiden.

“I do not need someone to watch me!”

“Seeker -”

“Do not call me that.”

Varric pinches the bridge of his nose. “It's not like that. You _know_ it's not like that. I just thought you might appreciate a companion to assist you with the smaller things whilst you get used to the layout -”

“I _knew_ you would hold that against me! I walked into the table _once_ -”

“And you nearly broke your damned neck!”

“I am fine!”

“ _I'm_ not!” he snaps. “I'm not fine with this! Damn it all, Cassandra, I'm trying to help you and you're too _stubborn_ to let me -” He stops, taking a deep breath. In front of him, he can see her clenched fist tremble. “I’m sorry,” he says, quieter now. “I’m trying to help, that’s all.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “Everyone is trying to help. I am - please, do not think me ungrateful, but I -”

“It’s a lot of help, for someone who never wants to ask for it,” he finishes.

“I do not want to be - to be this way. To need help.”

He moves to her side, careful not to touch her - not after she punched him last time, assuming him to be an attacker. “You’ll learn,” he offers, “you’ll learn how to get around and you’ll need less and less. Don’t think of it as giving up, Seeker -”

“Do not call me that.” She reaches behind her, grasping for the arm of the chair before settling into the seat. “I am not a Seeker, not anymore.”

“Yes you are,” points out a voice in the doorway. Varric turns to find one of her order - the woman who had brought her home. “You haven’t abandoned your duty, have you, Lady Seeker?”

Cassandra scowls. “Do not call me that! I cannot possibly lead -”

“You’re right, on that part. But the problem is that we elected you, and even when you had left us the whole lot of them agreed they still wanted your guidance.”

“What would you have me do? Appoint someone myself?”

Satine smiles thinly. Varric will come to learn this smile well - it is not one he particularly likes, as if he is the recipient of a joke at his expense.

“Master Viscount, would you leave me alone with the Lady Seeker?”

Varric looks to Cassandra instinctively, but if she is aware of it she makes no movement.

“If Cassandra’s alright with that -”

“It is fine, Varric.”

He swallows, before nodding. “Alright then. I’ll, uh… I’ll come find you for dinner, alright?”

“I might need her longer than that,” says Satine. “If you could arrange for some food to be sent up, and a room for the two of us to rest…”

Varric nods as Satine enters the room proper, brushing past him. “I’ll, uh… whatever you need. I just want to...” The words drift off as he watches the woman make herself comfortable next to Cassandra, and all of a sudden it feels like he is on the outside of something. He shakes the feeling off - of course he was, he was no Seeker. He forces a smile.

“Just want to help.”

*

Months pass.

The handmaiden comes and goes, along with an arms trainer and a flurry of messengers. Cassandra is finding her balance, finding her role, and thriving. Under Satine’s guidance, she masters the everyday once more, and it is a regular occurrence for Varric to wake to the sound of the training dummies taking a beating, the ragged exhales strangely peaceful.

He is under no illusions that it has been a hard-won peace for her. He just wishes he could have helped more.

As it stands, Varric is lucky to see her most days - between her duties guiding the new Seeker Council and managing the Keep’s staff - a duty she begged from Bran, to keep her idle hands busy - she is rarely without company when Varric comes to call. And thanks to her independance, he finds his bedchambers entirely void of her.

He misses her terribly, a fact he relates to Hawke on a regular basis.

“She's still closed off.” He sighs. “She won't even sleep in the same room as me. I don't know what to do.”

Hawke considers him in silence.

“What if she leaves? She could, now. Could go back to the Seekers and stay there, lead them properly. I mean, she'll be fine - of _course_ she'll be fine, she's the Seeker. But I - I don't think I will be, you know? I _need_ her, more than she needs me.”

“Have you told her that you love her yet?”

Varric rolls his eyes. “What is your obsession with me not saying three words?”

“They're _important_. Have you?”

“No.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe she _needs_ to hear those words right now?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She said -”

“That,” points out Hawke, “was before. Everything’s changed. She’s gone from fiercely independent to relying on you for nearly everything, despite the leaps and bounds she’s making. You’re the roof over her head, the food on her plate. You’re her hearth and home, Varric. She needs reassurance that you’re not going to change your mind, that you’re really in it for life. And no, marriage is not going to fix that right now,” she adds as he opens his mouth. “She needs _love_ , Varric. She needs to know she’s loved.”

“And what if I can’t tell her that?”

Hawke leans back, looking sad. “Then let her go,” she says softly. “Better to be kind, than let her down later.”

*

Satine is holding court when Varric finds the Seeker, telling Cassandra of a wild hunt she once led, and the sound of laughter rings around the room as he watches from the doorway. He has missed that sound.

“It seems our Master Viscount requires your attention, Lady Seeker. I’ll take my leave for the night.”

“Of course.” Cassandra smiles. “But I wish to hear the end of that story tomorrow, Satine.”

“As you command.”

“Varric?” Cassandra pats the chair next to her. “Come, sit with me, dear heart.”

The words make his chest ache. Varric sits next to her, taking her hands in his own.

“Can we talk?”

She stiffens, and he swallows.

“No, I mean - look, I need to tell you something, alright? But… it’s hard. So I need to… I need to put myself in your shoes.” He guides her hands up to his face, before reaching for the slip of fabric and covering his eyes with it.

“Why -”

“It’s easier for me to say what I need to say. Please, just - just trust me.”

Her fingers tremble over the soft fabric, before pulling away. “I _always_ trust you, Varric.”

“Okay.” He gropes for her hand, holding it tightly in his own. The darkness is strange - soothing, in a way. “Okay,” he says again.

“Varric -”

“Sometimes you drive me crazy, you know that?” He smiles slightly. “You never ask for help, even when it’s not - look, even _before_ this you were bad at it, and I understand that it’s hard, but… it’s not an imposition to _ask_. If _I_ need your help, you tell me off for not asking. So what makes _your_ requests any different?”

“Varr-”

“But you’re so _driven_ , even now, to do great things. You don’t let your eyes hold you back, and I’m so _proud_ of you, of what you’re accomplishing. Sometimes I just want to hold you and never let go, so you might understand how _amazed_ I am by you.”

Her hand tightens around his.

“And I know you think you’re not - shit, Cassandra, I _know_ you don’t think you’re attractive anymore, but you’re _so_ wrong. You’re so fucking wrong it makes me choke. You’re more beautiful now than the day we met, because now I can see more sides to you. Now I understand your kindness, your laughter, your sadness… they’re all part of it. You’re _radiant_ , Cassandra.”

“Please,” she whispers, “please, I cannot -”

“And I’m terrified. I’m so fucking scared of _hurting_ you, of doing something wrong and making you sad, and sometimes I can’t breathe -”

“Varric, please.” Both hands clasp around his. “ _Please_ , dear heart -”

“It's why I guess I've been letting you pull away. Thought you didn't need me anymore, and maybe you don't, but…” He takes in a shaky breath, feeling her knuckles under him thumbs. “I want to say a word, but I can’t… I can’t _say_ it. I wish I could, I wish the word wasn’t stuck in my throat, I wish I could say it more than anything.” He brings her hands up to his chest, spreading her fingers out over his heart. “But it’s here, Cassandra. It’s here, and it’s yours, and it’s not going anywhere. Not ever.” He swallows. “You’ll _never_ be alone, because I’m always going to be here. You have me, always.”

She lets out a cry, and he shoves his blindfold up, pulling her into a tight hug.

“It’s here,” he whispers, “It’s here and it’s yours and I hope it’s enough -”

“You stupid - you ridiculous stupid dwarf, of _course_ it is enough!” She clings to him, head resting against his chest, his heart beating against her cheek. “I thought - I thought you were going to send me away -”

“Never. _Never_ , sweetheart.” He nuzzles her hair. “I thought you might leave, that you thought I didn’t - that because I haven’t said it, even now -”

Her fingers trail over his shirt. “It is more than enough - it is yours.”

“Yours now,” he murmurs, kissing the top of her head. “Everything I have, everything I am - all yours.”

She pulls away, smile gentle. “You are so wonderful, dear heart, to tell me this. I confess, I have… struggled, and I was not sure if you felt as you did before.”

“I didn’t want to get in your way. You had Satine and Bran helping you, and I just… felt like I was in the way.” He laughs. “Hawke had to open my eyes.”

“If only we were all so lucky.” She reaches up to her own blindfold. “You have all of me too, damaged as it may be.”

“You’re not -”

“I am,” she says, “but that is okay. I am coming to terms with it, and I would like it if you could, too.” Tugging gently, she lets the fabric fall. “I would have you see me - all of me.”

Varric stares.

Her eyes are open, surrounded by an intricate pattern of white and pink scars, and what had once been gorgeous golden orbs were now clouded white, one crack running across her left eye. They are still, immovable, and he thinks of the opals set into his mother's earrings.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes. “You're beautiful.”

She is shaking, her smile weak. “You do not have to -”

“You're _beautiful_ ,” he repeats, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to the corner of her eye. “How could I think anything else?”

“Tell me how it looks, dear heart? How bad is it?”

“It's like lace,” he says softly, “delicate. Does it hurt?”

“Not for some time.” She trails a hand gently over his cheek. “The healers said I might be able to see shadows, after a time. I cannot make out the details of your face, but… I feel your presence. In time, I may be able to tell how long your hair is.”

“Really?”

“Perhaps.”

He turns, kissing her palm. “Well. Better get used to this dark blob,” he jokes, “it's not going anywhere.”

She smiles, bright and beautiful, and Varric wonders how she could ever think herself lessened in his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The hour grows late, and he leads her to her room. Her hand tightens around his unexpectedly.

“Varric?”

“Yeah?”

“Might I… I mean, would it be alright if I stayed with you?”

He smiles, bringing her hand to his lips. “More than alright. I wasn’t sure if -”

“I did not want you to -” She laughs softly. “It is silly now, I suppose. I thought you would wake one morning and be horrified if my blindfold slipped.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to see your eyes, and then I thought maybe you just didn’t want _me_.” He curls his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Silly now.”

“Oh, dear heart, I wanted you all this time. Always.”

“Did you now,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a kiss to her neck. She smiles, her hand finding his hair. “Do you want me now?”

“Yes,” she murmurs, “always.”

“Then brace yourself.”

“What - _oh!_ ” She grabs him as he sweeps her into his arms, fingers tight against his shoulders. “Varric!”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I won’t do it without asking again, but the moment demanded it.”

“I suppose I can forgive you,” she says with a smile, though the tension in her frame remains. “Twenty-four steps, is it not?”

“Twenty-six,” he offers, “I’ve got shorter legs than you.” “You counted?”

“Every time I came to your door to try and talk to you. Every time I walked back, defeated by my own cowardice.” He kisses her forehead. “Never again.”

“Take me to bed,” she whispers. “Take me to our bed, Varric.”

He tucks her into his arms, slow and steady steps back to his - to _their_ room, he amends, and he feels her relax, is glad of the trust that remains despite the recent schism.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs against her hair. “For being so foolish recently.”

“We both have, I think. Give it no more thought, dear heart. We are well, now, you and I.”

He pushes open the door with his foot, hesitating for a moment. “Seeker, I, uh… I need to put you down. I don’t think I can put you onto the bed.”

She smiles. “I told you we should have gotten the legs lowered,” she teases, but slips from his grasp carefully, one hand on his shoulder as he leads her over to the bed.

“Yeah, well, chalk up another bad decision by Viscount Tethras.”

“Might I face the fire?”

“Uh, sure.” He frowns slightly - was it that cold? - before moving to stoke it, the flames dancing over the coals.

“When you are between me and the light -”

“Oh!” He smiles, holding up a hand and waving, and she laughs.

“Still just a blob, dear heart.”

He crosses to the foot of the bed, kneeling at the edge. “How do you want to… I mean, would it be easier if you were lying down?”

“Just come and sit,” she laughs, “you are overthinking it.” She tugs him closer, pulling him over her as she presses languid kisses all over his face.

“I missed you,” he murmurs quietly, his arm curling around her waist. “I missed this.”

“And I you,” she breathes. “Will you touch me?”

He smiles against her lips. “Can I move you?” At her nod, he gently hoists her over him, rolling onto his back as she rocks onto his hips, steadying herself on his shoulders.

“Oh!”

He tenses. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I am just… remembering.” She smiles. “Your face, when we used to make love. It is exquisite.” Her hips move ever so slightly, and Varric bites back a moan. She stills, the tips of her fingers lingering over his pulse point.

“Do not - please, my love, do not hold back.”

“I -”

She shifts again, sending a current of electricity through him, and this time he gives voice to the noise - a throaty whine that makes her smile broaden.

“Ah, my love. I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“What I do to you - I can feel your blood jump, I can hear your pleasure.”

He smiles. “As good as the memories?”

“Better.” She leans down, pressing a languid kiss to his lips. “Never be silent, not with me. It is all I have.”

“Never again,” he murmurs against her lips. “But only if you aren't. I need to hear you, Cassandra, almost as much as you need to hear me.”

“Why?”

“I used to know when I was pleasing you from your eyes. Now I'm learning all over again.”

“Let us learn together.” She rises once more, hauling her tunic over her head. “Tell me, dear heart, what you see.”

Varric’s hands slide up her legs, stopping at her hips as he admires the view. She was not quite as solid as she had been, days of training and expeditions and fights replaced with a more comfortable existence, and now her hard edges were softened a little. The curves were a little rounder, a fact that brings a smile to his lips. She was content here, and her body showed it.

“I see perfection,” he murmurs, shuffling to sit up slightly as one hand grazes up her back. “I see a woman whose body is equal parts alluring and terrifying - you could literally crush my head open with those thighs,” he adds, grinning as his other hand squeezes her leg gently.

She smiles, blushing as he pulls her in tighter. “So I am still desirable?”

“You _know_ the answer to that,” he growls, bucking his hips and pressing against her heat, her breath catching. “Fuck, Cassandra, you are… you are everything I need. And I _need_ you.”

“Varric -” Her throat catches again as he drags his teeth over her collarbone, one hand sliding into his hair and gripping tightly.”

“I want to make you sing, Seeker. I want you sated, your gorgeous body aching from the pleasure of it all, voice hoarse from the salutations to the Maker. I want you to know how much I need you.”

“Tell me,” she gasps, rocking against him. “Tell me.”

“I want to tear those breeches off you and fuck you,” he rumbles against her chest, and she laughs tightly, a strangely high desperate noise.

“Then get on with it!”

He grins, gently rolling her onto her back with a murmured warning, before sliding back the soft fabric of her trousers from her legs, tossing them off the edge of the bed. “Divine,” he murmurs, kissing her knee.

“Do not tease.”

“I mean it.”

“And _I_ mean to have you make love to me,” she retorts with a laugh, reaching for his shoulders. “Clothes, dwarf. Let me feel you.”

She sits up as he yanks off his tunic, tilting her head slightly as the fabric hits the floor. He struggles with his own trousers, muttering a few choice curses under his breath as she laughs, before returning to her touch. Taking her hand, he places it against his cheek, smiling.

“There. Bare before you.”

“Good.” Her fingers trail over his shoulder, her smile broad as she brushes against his chest. “Is it still as glorious as ever?”

“The chest hair?” He chuckles. “I guess. It’s missed you.”

“And I have missed it.” She hums as she runs her hand through it. “Amongst other things.”

“Oh?”

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips as her hand trails further south.

“Oh,” he says, taking in a breath.

“Varric -”

“Yeah?”

“I am sure you were not this… large…”

He laughs. “Not sure if I should be flattered or insulted that you remember me smaller!”

Her fingers curl around him, her smirk playful. “Say that again?” she murmurs, squeezing.

He groans, hands tightening around the sheets. “ _Aahh_ \- flattered, sticking with flattered!”

She laughs, shuffling over his hips as she lines herself up slowly. He reaches between them, adjusting his angle -

“Oh,” she breathes, and then, “ _oh_. Oh, _Maker_.”

His hands slide around her waist as she settles on his length. “You okay?”

She presses her forehead against his, nodding. “Mm. It has… it has been some time.”

“Sorry.”

“Do not -”

He rocks his hips slowly, and her sentence dissolves into a drawn out moan, her arms winding around his neck as she holds him close.

“More,” she murmurs, “give me more.”

“Ah - Cassandra, fuck -”

“Again,” she pants, “say it again.”

“Cassandr- _ah_ , Maker -”

“Yes, my love, yes -”

He presses desperate, sloppy kisses to her chest, forehead resting against her collarbone. “Fuck, sweetheart, it’s so good, you’re so good -”

“Please - please, Varric, harder - I want it -”

He makes a noise of assent, dipping his head to capture one of her nipples between his lips, and she lets out a soft cry.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes - yes -”

“Shit, Cassandra,” he groans, “you feel so _good_ on my cock.” 

Her fingers dig into his shoulderblades, her back arching as she bucks her hips, riding him

In earnest. “More - more -”

“I'm going to worship you,” he whispers, “show you every last inch of my gratitude, any way you want it. I'll have you dizzy with desire, Cassandra, but only after you come for me. You can do that, can't you?”

“Yes - yes, Varric, _please_ -”

“So good for me, so fucking good -” He grits his teeth as her body tightens around him, her pants and moans giving way to a low noise that draws out as she shakes. “That's it, sweetheart, that's it.”

She grapples at his back, clinging to him as her release shudders out of her, and he wraps an arm around her waist, holding her close.

“Varric - Varric -” His name is mumbled, and he cannot help but smile as he feels the last great shudder before she falls limps.

“Come on, over we go -” He tilts her back against the bed, kissing her soundly before starting up his pace once more. “You're so good, sweetheart, so fucking good -”

Her hand slides into his hair once more, her smile tired but warm. “I missed this,” she whispers, “I missed your passion.”

“Not going anywhere -”

“As if I would let you go anywhere,” she laughs. “Nobody fucks me like you do.”

“Don’t let go, don’t ever - fuck - Cassandra, please, I need you, I need you -”

“Come, my love, come.”

“Fuck - _fuck_ -” He sobs out his release, the weight on his shoulders finally lifted as he presses his body against hers. He feels her hands curling around him, gentle but firm, and he slides off her and buries himself in the crook of her body, strangled cries as he brings himself back under control.

“Oh, Varric. I will never let you go,” she whispers, “never.”

*

They do marry, eventually, because he wants to do right by her. But he waits until Cassandra is more comfortable, until she begins to blossom in her new roles, before murmuring the question against her palms one balmy summer evening.

Bran ensures it is the quiet affair they both desire, a small group of friends gathered in the Chantry and Hawke being the one to bring them into the hall. They prepare in the small room off from the main walkway, Cassandra fretting.

“You _will_ be careful, will you not? Josephine says this dress is very special, and the hem trails, I can feel it -”

He holds her hand tightly, kissing her knuckles. “One eye on your dress, I know.” He sighs happily. “Maker, but I love you.”

She freezes, and behind him he can hear Hawke’s sharp intake of breath.

He swallows. “Uh.”

“That simple, eh?” says Hawke, hands on his shoulders. “Maker, Varric, you might be the only man actually strangled on his wedding day…”

“Shut up, Hawke.”

She laughs as she presses a kiss to Cassandra’s cheek. “Give him hell, gorgeous,” she teases, before giving them one last moment together.

“Varric, I could hit you,” whispers Cassandra, despite the smile that takes over her face.

“I know.” He tucks himself under her arm. “But you won’t, because we’re getting married today.”

“Is that why -”

“No.” He laces his fingers with hers. “Just happy coincidence. I don’t know why today, I just know… _today_. Today, I can say it. It’s not - it’s not a mountain of a word, not anymore.”

“I love you,” she murmurs.

“I love you. I always have, you _know_ that, right? I just -”

“I know, dear heart. I have always known.”

Her fingers tighten around his. It feels good.

“Shall we marry, dear heart?” she asks.

Varric grins, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Well, I suppose we ought to…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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